


Oceandust

by Katastrophi



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Drug Addiction, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Over Protective, Pansexual Bucky Barnes, Paparazzi, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Stucky - Freeform, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicidal actions, captain america is famous, dissociative tendancies, tags likely to change or be added to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-11 19:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3332405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katastrophi/pseuds/Katastrophi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky gave himself up to S.H.I.E.L.D. of his own free will when he started to regain his memory. Steve watched forlornly as his best friend's mental stabily slowly degenerated back to that of The Winter Soldier in his holding cell. Steve is convinced that the best thing for Bucky is to get him out in the real world and experience life the way he had. The first step is moving the two of them back into their old Brooklyn apartment. </p>
<p>Is this really what is best for the brunette?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Broken Circuit

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for giving my story a chance. I admit, I'm fairly new to the Fandom, but I've put a lot of effort into this story. 
> 
> The plot is based on a role-play I'm doing with my friend Emma, and her tumblr is GoodheavensChrisEvans <3 
> 
> The title is from Oceandust by Hands Like Houses. Don't listen to it and think about Bucky Barnes. You'll cry. A lot.

**"Not enough, they always told me.**  
**I'm no one, I never will be.**  
**They were wrong, don't ever listen.**  
**They are wrong."**

_Broken Circuit by The Word Alive._

 

* * *

Florescent lights gave a soft hum in the near silent room. The unnatural light cast oblong and deep shadows across the floor. All that could be heard was a heartbeat and breath. It didn't sound like his own. It didn't feel like his own, but it had to be. Steel grey walls were threatening to swallow him whole, and frankly he wasn't sure if he would mind all that much if they did.

The shell of a man was shackled to a table in an interrogation room, his brown hair matted and dirty. His cheeks were mildly irritated from stubble overgrowth and his eyes bloodshot. So tired. This had to be the longest he'd gone thawed out. He felt like his skin was almost too hot or trying to bloat away from the bone. Too much exposure. If both arms weren't near bolted down, he would likely have been scratching at the flesh, wanting free from it.

This cage was starting to melt away, leaving The Winter Soldier free to his thoughts. What did one think about when they were not force fed opinions or tactics? The bleary eyed man shifted his body weight towards a door with a small sliver of a glass window. His training told him that if applied enough force with the arm, he could shatter the bullet proof casing and have his own throat slit before personnel could reach him. Oh what a perfect world it would be had he not been tied down like some rabid animal being punished.

A soft voice scolded his thinking deep in the tresses of his mind. The voice was meek in sound but booming in confidence. It was so painstakingly familiar. Steve. It was Steve's voice telling the asset not to take his own life. It figured, really. The man was such a stickler for rules and trying to do the right thing, it was surprising that the soldier couldn't hear the disembodied voice telling him it was a more honorable death to die in war. If only the Winter Soldier could be that lucky.

"Bucky? It's me." The voice was louder now, more acute than any foggy memory. That name made the Asset's metal arm clench. Oh how envious of a man could the soldier be to be jealous of a person with nothing more than a name. Even tombstones carry a name.

"Get..." The Asset's voice was rough, scratching his own throat like dull razorblades on wet skin. "Get out of my head!"

His voice boomed through the room, movement echoed in the area to his left and the soldier whipped around as fast as he could, pulling a muscle in his right shoulder. Someone had gotten into the room without him knowing. That voice was real. He slumped against the wall, his hands splayed against brick. Eyes narrowed, the soldier stared down the man in front of him. He was wearing jeans and a button up shirt, both smelling fresh and new.

The man raked his fingers through his own fringe and the Winter Soldier thought of how it was a perfect length to use as a handle to bash the man's head against the corner of the table off to the side. Mission Accomplished. Shaking those thoughts away, the prisoner tried to pay attention to the blond.

Steve wavered a bit, the feral look in Bucky's eyes giving him the chills. Wetting his lips, Steve leaned down in front of his long time friend. "Do... do you know who you are?"

"Weapons don't have an identity, they just exist." The soldier hated how the blond man in front of him looked sick at his words. Why did this even affect him?

"You're not a weapon, you are a human being." Steve's voice was gentle. It seemed to caress a part of the prisoner deep inside. He grunted and refused to answer the man.

Steve did something extraordinary at that point. He sat down within arms length of The Winter Soldier. The asset looked at the blond incredulously, watching Steve's every move. This was too intense, the brunet's mind racing. What were this man's tactics?

"Bucky," Steve started, taking a deep breath. "I don't like how SHIELD is treating you... This...  
this isn't right."

The prisoner stayed quiet. It wasn't allowed to speak while being briefed. The monster pinned to the floor wasn't even sure if this was real. This man had appeared in front of him multiple times when it was too quiet. Different dress, different words, but always this man. It was a welcome comfort to the screaming silence.

"SHIELD? Hydra? Prison is prison." The Soldier's voice was stuttered and deep, working and wading through fractions of dispersed thoughts.

Steve's face twitched and he gently placed his hand beside the man's knee. "Bucky..."

"I don't have a name, and if I did, that sure as hell wouldn't be it." The brunet spit venom in Captain America's direction. It made him flinch.

"I... okay. I understand. James, then. Can I call you James?"

The Winter Soldier rolled his eyes but gave a nod. If it made this man feel better, he could play along with his delusions of domestication. He didn't understand the man's desperate need to address him, but it gave the asset something to focus on.

Steve wet his lips and looked mildly frantic. "I want to get you out of here."

That got the assassin's attention. Anything, even a bullet to the brain stem, was better than being shackled to the ground like a man waiting for his chance to hang from the gallows. He shifted and took a second to glance at Steve's face, trying to desperately find a tell on the man's body. To find a lie.

"I... I have our old apartment. It... It is different, kinda." Steve rubbed the back of his head, feeling mildly embarrassed at the want to ramble. "I've brought it up to code for the new era, and added a second bedroom by knocking down a few walls... I... I wanna take you there. Bucky, please."

The soldier's eyes widened. This man... He was going to break him out of here? How did the broad chested blond have that much trust within his capacity? His metal hand flexed and his jaw tightened. "How do you know I will not try to escape or harm you?"

Steve gave a laugh that sounded almost like a push of breath through his lungs. His licked over the color of his bottom lip and held a slight smile. "Because if you were planning that, you wouldn't be asking me about my safety measures. You would harness my trust and use it against me. I know you, Bu-- James."

The asset sighed through his nose, almost defeated in a sense. Did this make Steve his new handler? "James" bowed his head. "If you let me free from here, you can call me ask you wish. Even "Bucky"."


	2. Ohioisonfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friend and I finished the RP this story is based off of a while back, and it took a FAR more drastic turn than we ever expected it to. It actually became a rather intricate crossover with BBC Sherlock. I'm thinking of taking it to that level in this story as well, but I haven't decided yet. I may save it for a sequel if anyone is interested.

**"Feel the weight on my shoulders, your legs are giving out, cant scream,**   
**Can't make a sound,**   
**I'm dying just to keep sane."**

_Ohioisonfire by Of Mice & Men_

* * *

 

__

Dust motes danced through the sunlight filtering through the almost over-large window and it did little for the brunette man's nerves. His right leg twitched, a constant bouncing on the ball of his foot. He had been in this apartment for little over five minutes and he was ready to bolt for the door. Scanning his surroundings, it would only take him three minutes to get onto the street without detection.

Why didn't he run?

It was almost too simple and sickly for him to think about: he had been ordered to stay put. Steve had walked through that doorway and asked the asset to sit on the sofa while he managed to prepare the bedding in the next room. As ever the obedient dog, the Winter Soldier stayed put and his jaw set.

His metal fingers gripped into the leather arm of the couch. Thoughts were racing and it was like there were ghostly whispers overfilling his mind. Everything was vague and soft around the edges, like the secret weapon of the Soviets was walking through the dreams of the distant past. The man trembled.

Walking though the high doorway from the kitchen, Steve was holding two water bottles and a simple smile. The asset's eyes narrowed as the blond got closer but he didn't lash out. He felt dirty; as if pestilence seeped from his lungs with every breath. Why was Steve getting closer? Didn't he know dogs carried fleas?

"Buck, you need some water. You look dehydrated and it might help you think more clearly." He handed the dirty man the drink with gentle hands.

Steve sat opposite of the man with the metal arm, his ankles crossed. Looking down at the drink, the brunette watched the condensation race to touch his metal skin. It left droplets and caused shining streaks over his knuckles. The soldier frowned. "Why did you get me out of there? S.H.I.E.L.D. will be looking for your head on a post."

"S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't… I couldn't care less about them right now. They are not my priority and I am not theirs. Fury may be rebuilding it from scratch but I do not hold allegiance to a company." There was a certain quality in the blond's voice that made the soldier stop his line of questioning.

The snap of the seal on the water bottle sounded almost like the breaking of bones to the Asset. He shifted awkwardly on the sofa, finding the material too soft against his body. He didn't crave the feeling of metal tables or concrete floors, but it was all the man was used to. Without giving it a second thought, he lifted himself and sat in the floor against the wall beside the chair Steve was in. The surface was at least flat and he didn't have to shift so much to feel something solid and tangible.

Steve didn't question his old friend, understanding the thought process. It oddly reminded him of an old conversation he'd had with Falcon. He couldn't fathom what this man had gone through... what he had let him go through alone. Guilt seemed to seep from every pore that Steve Rogers possessed and he didn't know how to make any of this better except for a small bit of comfort.

_“ B-Bucky,” Steve looked down at his own water bottle, remembering just how easily the man beside him could get him tongue-tied and terrified without even uttering a word. Near 70 years later, and it's still happening._

The Winter Soldier sat there, feeling as if he should respond. He knew somewhere in the bottom of his stomach that Steve would not hit him, he did not resemble the suited men or other handlers. The air around him smelled cleaner. The brunette man knew better than near anyone though; never assume. A handler, despite their intentions at the moment, still own and control you. Wetting his bottom lip, the metal armed man turned to show the broad shouldered man that he was acknowledging that he was speaking.

The look of diciplined control washing over his best friend's face made Steve's stomach do flips. This wasn't right. How many times had they been sitting in this very spot, sweltering from the summer heat, and Steve tried to get Bucky's attention to only receive a “Don'cha see I'm busy, punk? What's shakin' your bones?”

Steve cleared his throat, managing to swallow down the frog that seemed to have been lodged there. "I made up our old bedroom for you. The furniture is a bit different, less of a cot a piece and more an actual bed, you know? But it was ours… I'd like it if you stayed in there? Maybe it would… maybe it would help you remember."

A softened look branched over the soldier's face. "Ours". That word seemed to twist at the brunette man's stomach and he didn't really know how to react. This man before him, he knew the Soviet's weapon. He knew this dog of the military before he was a nameless being. This proved there was in fact a before.

The gun specialist was staring off passed the Sentinel of Liberty, almost choking on the words he had been wanting to say. “Wh-what... what was your...” He scrunched his nose slightly, almost like a small child attempting to not say something mean or foul.

It took several minutes for the man to collect his thoughts. The only sounds permeating the room was bated breath, the ticking of Steve's old grandfather clock and the distinct and unique whirring of a metal arm. The voice was meek and tired but the heaviness of the statement was still strong enough to knock the wind out of Steve Rogers' lungs.

“Was... Was this...Bucky, you keep calling him, was he a good person?”

A sharp breath rattled Steve's bones and he moved to look at the man sitting on the ground. The weight of his words tasted like gun metal. “You are the greatest man I've ever known. You taught me what it meant to be good.”

 

 


End file.
